Which of them all beginnings?
by Blueberry Absinth
Summary: Small, she is. A small girl with horridly long pigtails. YukiRiru, AU
1. Chapter 1

**Sure, I have some other YukiRiru stories to finish, to think up and all that, but I think it's time for this.. thing to grace the internet :D :D I don't own any characters in here :D **

**R&R and you get free cookies ^^ :3 **

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><p>…<p>

_Which of them all beginnings?_

_~*Canso*~_

…

_t__remblant de peur comme un enfant dans le noir_

…

…

Small, she is. A small girl with horridly long pigtails and a long, torn robe whipped by the wind, offering her little to no warmth. Alone. Hurriedly walking towards a place no one knows about. Harsh weather, strong wind, freezing temperatures, yet she presses on, with a look of determination on her face. Everyone ignores her; after all, _another homeless girl is nothing strange, right?_

There is no snow – she wonders why but then figures that even snow sometimes gets cold and refuses to get out of the puffy clouds that shelter it from the cold outside.

_(How soft will the clouds be if she were to jump on them?) _

Her feet are cold, so cold that the earth beneath them is warm to the touch. She wriggles her toes, mindful not to let them fall off. Her hair covers her shoulders, despite being in pigtails (her ribbons were a present from a really nice lady who used to come here in the warm days of May and used to give her all kinds of cute things. Too bad most of them are gone now.). The thick strands are icy, but keep her body temperature something akin to normal.

The world is freezing, yet a small smile is lingering on her blue lips.

Everyone ignores her.

'_Humans are so not cute,_' she thinks while trying to bring the blood back to her limbs. But no matter, she has a cute thing to cheer her up in this bitter hell.

A baby doll with one missing leg.

…

…

She turns round a corner and arrives at her little house. In the summer, back when she knew what 'sun' felt like, the place was far prettier. She would always bring flowers there, even if they withered in a few hours; even if they withered quickly, they refreshed the grey buildings that sheltered her from the harsh winds.

However, she can't find any flowers in winter, exhausts herself up to the point of collapsing, just to find something to change the look of her house. (But she can't.)

She's thought about taking ice flowers, but they always turn to water before she can get back.

In a tiny, huddled box, she keeps all the pretty things that she managed to find and that have managed to last. Dolls; dressed in rags, animal figurines with vital parts missing, deflated balls, small; pretty stones and even some seashells. That's her treasure chest and no one but her sees the value in it.

She smiles silently as she permits her new possession to enter her dollhouse.

_(At night, when she cuddles her treasure and tries to fall asleep, she promises herself that one day she'll sleep in an enormous bed, like the one she saw through a window, and her friends will be many – cute, new and old.) _

The box now has a new occupant. The baby now has a heart on the left side of its chest and looks like it's quite happy with its position among the others. A grin spreads on her lips: if she can only be lonely, then she might as well make it so that others aren't.

Still smiling, she cuddles in the space between two walls, hoping that she'd be defended from the wind, and falls to a dreamless slumber.

…

…

She steals a glance from behind her shoulder to see him still following her. She doesn't like this- this boy, no younger than her who has been tailing her for the last fifteen minutes or so.

There is nothing cute about him. His bangs cover his forehead and go into his eyes, but she knows that he sees every movement of hers; she bets he notices her trembling. His body is hunched but still he appears to be taller than her.

She takes a couple of turns hoping to escape from him but he never gets lost. She stops people and starts talking with them, playing the cute card to them, hoping he'd get bored but yet he just waits for her, playing with something in his hands.

A vein on her forehead begins throbbing and she gets cross. Who does he think he is? Stalking her like that! And he isn't even cute – what's the point then? His existence alone is pointless.

Annoyed, she stops (in a fairly lit street, with a fair amount of people in it), leans over the wall and sighs with annoyance; she won't run anymore, she will face him with courage and demand to know why the hell he is following her.

Not even a minute later, he appears from behind the corner; shaggy, ugly and so terribly bored. The moment their eyes meet, she just wants to walk up to him and wring that little, annoying neck. And there he is, looking completely nonchalant. That infuriates her.

She stands up straight (despite her full height, he is still taller than her), puts on her best grimace that rather looks like a pout and glares straight into his eyes. Or his hair. Or whatever.

_(Thinks of forgotten dolls and broken boxes…) _

"… I see you finally get it that I've been following you. You are quite slow, you know," he is faster than her in initiating a conversation. Just as he is taller than her. And better dressed, now that she notices.

All that makes her even angrier.

"Idiot! I knew that the moment you went and bought those sweets!" she snaps at him. He doesn't even know her name and yet he is badmouthing her! Why? "And anyway, why are you stalking me? Are you a pervert? Wait, you are definitely one, aren't you?"

She feels she is rambling but shrugs it off. Anything that'd help her get across her ideas.

Instead, the boy just shakes his head and rubs his temples. She is compelled to jump and suffocate him.

"You are already proving yourself a nuisance," he muttered almost to himself, "why did they choose me to go, anyway? They know I don't have patience for little girls who can only play dress up."

"Wha–" she starts to say but he cuts her off.

"Whatever. I'm through with this idiocy."

And he leaves her fuming in the cold, cold streets.

…

…

The next time she is pestered, he isn't alone.

She is away in her house, knees brought to her chin, a small music box in front of her. She watches, mesmerized by the off-tune music. In the centre of the box, a ballerina miniature should have been; but only a pair of badly-colored legs is left. Regardless, it continues moving, _turning, turning, and turning._

She knows that behind the small mirror incorporated in the cover of the box, lays the small key that, just like the pitiful remains of the ballerina, continues to _turn, turn, turn,_ making the simple melody play and echo off the brick walls.

She is just trying to huddle into herself even better, so as to not lose heat, when she hears a voice she's hoped to never hear again.

"This music sucks. Turn it off."

She is already turning around, with the expletives on her tongue and her hand in a fist, when she notices that this time he isn't alone (sucker, he was let off the hook easily this time; but no worries- she won't miss her next chance). There is an older man with him, someone who possesses a degree of awesomeness. He has dark hair and wicked eyes. A glorious pendant hangs from his neck.

"What are you doing here?" she growls out at the two men; she can't be stopped from defending her home and being hostile.

The older man sits on one of the bigger boxes and lights a cigarette, deciding on an 'ignore you' façade. She refuses to flinch at the smoke. He notices that and smirks. Annoyer boy betrays no reaction.

A tight silence that can be cut with a knife descends on the three of them. She doesn't want to be the first one to start talking but in the end, she can't hold it in anymore.

"So you are a friend of–" she gestures nonchalantly in the annoyer boy's direction. Guess another try at a conversation is better than… that silence _before._

"My, my," the sitting guy grins from behind his cigarette, "You really are as impatient as I was told. At first I thought you might be different, since my spy here," a hand thrown out at his companion and a wink at her, "also said that you were stupid, annoying and get angry quite quickly. And those all can't be true at the same time."

"That's the truth," a small mutter resounds from the boy. She just decides to ignore him and focus her attention to the smoker, who looks more important.

"Well, your spy here is quite lousy," she fakes a grin and scowls at the mentioned boy.

The smoker smiles, then smashes what's left of the cigar on the wall (he does smoke fast). Then he stands up, straightens up and walks over to her. Purely instinctively, she takes a step back; an action she curses later on: it shows weakness and cowardice.

She hears a chuckle from behind and growls something incoherently under her breath.

"My name is Kuugo Ginjo," he introduces himself with a mock-bow, "nice to meet ya. Oh, and that social retard over there is Yukio."

Not even the slightest reaction, she notes to herself, and stores it away for later examination.

_(No sound. Just the taptaptap of something she doesn't recognize.) _

She continues examining the boy, this Yukio, without really listening to what Ginjo-san says to her. He is tiny, but definitely taller than her (one day, she'd be taller than him, oh she will). He is wearing only black clothes which make a startling contrast with his fair skin. She can't see his eyes (what their color is).

Then, she snaps to attention, turning to Ginjo-san and starting to listen carefully. She doesn't understand a word of what he says, mostly because of the fact that she's missed half of the lecture.

He tells her that she is special, that she is different, just the same old bullshit rapists and pedophiles feed to kids in order to kidnap them and whatnot. Then he explains something about her having a Fullbring, about her treasure chest being a source of power. All that is really stupid, but at least there is nothing scary in his words. She is inclined to believe him–

Not until he mentions leaving her home.

"WHAT?" she practically shrieks and the two boys look over at her with little more than surprise written over their features. She is panting heavily, her hands form fists and her whole body is shaking. She doesn't even know why. Just… at the thought of leaving her little home, the only place she wasn't shunned from… it is unbearable. She can't imagine another place to live in, another place to cheer her up after returning from a hard day, _(to make her escape reality)._

Maybe she had just misheard.

"You'll have to leave," he repeats himself; so it has been really said, "With us."

A furious head shake.

Her pigtails bob around her flushed cheeks. She doesn't want to go anywhere. No! Her fists tighten.

"Ohh, c'mon," Yukio sounds impatient and exasperated, she notes (and internally grins at his annoyance), "It's not like this place is any good. It's just a cardboard box; nothing special."

"Hmph, not like I expect someone like you to understand "special"!" she says hotly, with a roll of her eyes, hiding her inner fury. Her house is very cute! Who is he to say otherwise?

She turns to them furious, glaring with all her worth (_wondering why all she sees is red)_ and growls at them. There's a shrill sound in response.

Their eyes widen and she smiles at–

Nothing to feel and nothing to see.

Only red. And sticky.

Feel red. See sticky. Sticky red; red see.

Something grand. Raise, raise. Frightened eyes.

She closes her eyes.

But there it is. Burnt under her lids.

And the petite broken ballerina continues to turn, turn, turn.

…

…

…

Next time, a girl comes. Her face is serious, her hair is short, but her eyes are kind.

She quietly explains what has happened to the small girl with horridly long pigtails, what has happened to those Ginjo and Yukio. The small girl hangs her horridly long pigtails so that they cover her face. The other girl kneels next to her and offers a one-armed hug.

In a soft voice, she explains to her about a world that makes no sense anymore.

Those two men (a man and _a boy,_ her mind adds in wryly, making her shiver) have some severe injuries, caused by her… power, and are now on hospital beds. The woman shakes her head almost to herself and says, mostly to herself, that the man, Ginjo-san will probably be okay in a few weeks; however, the younger boy's in a worse state, that Yukio (annoyance of a human being, supplies her mind, but she is too terrified to listen to it).

Her body shivers. It's too cold.

The other girl is talking about something she can't quite hear. The words are circling her, like the water of a river circles a round stone, slowly shaping it into a special form; just like water, her words shaped her thoughts. Confusion reigned in her mind.

An accident like this is normal when her powers are still young and undeveloped. Getting angry was just another way of activating it and the people around her weren't the reason. But it was a good thing that Yukio and Ginjo-san were the ones who took the blast of the explosion (or whatever it was) – they are battle-hardened warriors and used to wounds and they know how to get them treated even if she wasn't close. This is the lesser evil. So there was no need for the little pig-tailed girl to get upset, right?

Right?

In a second, the little pig-tailed girl starts crying.

Why is she being comforted?

So, if you don't wana make something like this happen again, you should come with me and let me train you to control your power?

A nod.

Pause.

Why a nod?

No more problems. No accidents.

"By the way, I'm Jackie. Will you tell me your name?"

Another pause. Somewhere in the distance, there's an unknown sound /taptaptiptaptip/ but both ignore it.

"Riruka."

"Okay, Riruka. Come with me."

…

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><p><strong>Some stuff: <strong>

**Canso (or le grand chant) is a genre of medieval music, sung by troubadours. In the first stanza, the composer explains his purpose. in the second, a variety of reactions towards the first stanza are shown. It either ends in a _tornada_ (a final shorter stanza, addressed to a lady/patron) or a _envoi_ (short stanza, used to address an imagined or actual persona XD **

**_t__remblant de peur comme un enfant dans le noir _is from the poem 'Cet amour' by Jacques Prévert. It means _trembling with fear like a child in the dark_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Nihi, this was actually written before Kubo showed us Riruka's backstory~~ Funny how in this fanfiction she collects random trinkets and in the manga she collects hotties :D :D ah well, close enough :D**

**Discl.: No ownage~**

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><p>…<p>

Which of them all beginnings?

*~Exordium~*

…

_the only rattling cages are her own_

…

…

Yukio looks deadly pale on the bed, hidden under thousands of quilts, in a cruel parody of everything she – used to – hate. Humans meddling in her business, humans making trouble, humans being useless, humans making her feel… humans on the whole.

/humans being so damn mortal…

Why must she feel so guilty?/

The rattle of high-heeled boots alarm her that Jackie's approaching, but she doesn't even as much lift her head. However, a sudden weight startles her as the taller woman rests a hand on her shoulder for comfort.

Comfort she doesn't need.

She shakes the warm hand off, albeit in quite a half-hearted way. Her eyes don't leave his face. His small, pale face.

Oh, yeah, another thing she hated about him. His eyes, closed as though he is sleeping but much, much worse. And the salt leaking from beneath her lids is pretty annoying too.

Jackie has enough common sense to leave her to herself.

…

…

She doesn't leave his side the next few days. At day, she'll tend to him and help the nurses (and yell at them more often than not) and sit by his bedside and by night, she'll fall asleep, nestled in her own hands, on his bed, hoping that a certain cliché will work and she'll wake up to a grumbling – what is his name anyway?

Yukio. Right, Yukio.

Doesn't that idiot know how it's done? The girl should fall asleep on the boy's bed and the next morning the boy should wake up to find her sleeping, using her own hands as a pillow, having proven herself as a good caretaker, tied emotionally to him. He would gaze at her lovingly, take her hand and fall asleep again, peacefully this time though, knowing his angel was guarding him.

But noo, all that stupid tween can do was lie like a moron and not do anything. Not even a pat of his eyelashes (an unneeded observation, but she'd noticed that he had long, dark eyelashes. Not that she needed to know that. Really.)

Hasn't he read at least one novel?

Wait, on second thought, she didn't want to know.

She figures he was doing that on purpose: for days on no end, a weird mountain of sorts has developed itself in her chest. It's heavy and uncomfortable and she has never experienced it before.

She calls it a 'lump', Jackie calls it 'guilt' and the resident doctor advises her to visit the psychiatrist.

But whatever it is, it's annoying and she wants it gone.

Oh, and Jackie's wrong.

…

…

During one of her rare sleepless nights, when both she and Jackie stalk around the two beds (actually, when Jackie would do so; she'll stay by the white-haired boy's bed, not even moving) and check on both boys and mutter something to herself, Riruka gets a hold of Yukio's old PSP.

Despite its age, it is still shiny, polished after days and days of use, and she gets giddy while holding it in her hands. It's dark and pretty and it looks so fragile. Like the boy to her left, hidden under a number of blankets.

She holds onto the gadget carefully, as though it's made of glass, as though it's a frail token of trust between shy teenagers (the girl looks after the boy's possessions… hmmph, not surprising).

It's dark just like his eyes used to be and she wonders just how precious it has been to him.

(sleeps with it like a child snogging a teddy bear)

…

…

"Okay, now! Listen to me you stupid idiot! You are driving both me and Jackie very crazy with this coma thing! I don't even care what's happened to you; hell, I don't care about you at all! But obviously, she cares for you and she'd be very upset if you don't wake up. And I don't wana see Jackie upset, especially over a little idiot like you! So, doofus, I am spelling it out very clearly for you! Wake. Up."

"Are you talking to someone?" asked a confused Jackie who was just entering the room.

"Of course not," she snorted arrogantly, "Who should I be talking to? This idiot over here?"

Jackie just smiled a little knowing smile and bent over Ginjo's bed.

…

Sometimes, after having stupid nightmares (like if all chocolate in the world is eaten by a giant snake or if all the teddy bears are burnt on a stake by some psycho or if he doesn't wake up), she wakes up all sweaty and panting. When (not if, _when_) that happens, she stays up all night thinking about various things (broken ballerinas twirling and twirling and twirling, a blast of something she doesn't recognise and breaking an old, polished PSP). Her lids never close themselves and usually they rest on his figure.

He looks better under moonlight.

That just did not sound like from a cheap romance novel!

It's just that, 'cause, you know, because of his complexion. Under the white light of the moon (she suspects Jackie deliberately leaves the curtains open so that it can shine in the room), the colour of that thin skin of his looks more natural and his hair looks like liquid starshine.

She knows that if he opens his eyes, she will see pearly eyes instead of the inky ones she has _almost_ forgotten.

Sometimes, if the nightmares are very bad, she reaches over and clutches his hand.

…

…

…

"Hey, why are you helping me anyway? I mean, yeah, I took you in, I promised you all that , but I haven't really asked you to do anything…"

She doesn't like the glint in Jackie's eyes. There's something evil in it.

A sigh escapes her lips.

"Well, common sense says so. I'm the reason they are in this bad condition now; the least I should do is help in any way possible."

Both of them know there's no such thing as common sense with them.

"Really? Is that the only reason?"

"… Ya really."

What? That woman expects that she'll say that she's crazy in love with him?

Tough luck.

…

Jackie's question really gets her pondering why she's doing all this though. Sure, it _is_ the normal and expected thing to do and she isn't complaining but still.

It's kinda hard to explain.

But she is definitely not guilty.

…

Fine, it was guilt. Okay?

She felt guilty she did that to them.

But she was trying, okay?

But that's natural, right? To repent for your mistakes…

Someone had once tried to teach her shit like that. She hadn't understood anything from that.

But now she knew.

She felt bad.

Wait. 'Bad' didn't even begin to cover it. She wished from all her heart that things returned to the way they used to be: her minding her own business, them minding their own business. Even if that meant she was going to leave that sorry excuse of a helpless idiot, then so be it. She wouldn't care less…

Just.

Let him be okay.

…

…


End file.
